


Blank

by ConnorTheTwink (FiveHargreevesNeedsAHug)



Series: Detroit Oneshots [9]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Needs a Hug, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Memory Loss, Poor Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Post Revolution, Scared Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Virus, but also kinda vague?, implied/referenced skull-fucking, kinda that is, this is dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24840445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveHargreevesNeedsAHug/pseuds/ConnorTheTwink
Summary: Connor doesn't remember. Hank does.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Detroit Oneshots [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1118754
Comments: 8
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so, its uh. its been a while since i posted anything! BUT i have like.. 4-5 works just sitting around waiting for me to share em, so i thought i'd finally go and share one of them. this is a two-part fic. and it's dark. just keep that in mind. i tried to be deliberately vague with most of it? but i am bad at being vague sdfjdsfksd  
> anywho, enjoy this dark shit!

He didn’t remember.

  
He didn’t understand, why didn’t he remember?

  
Why, when he tried his hardest to _think_ and _recall_ , did nothing come back?

  
It was like the memories were non-existent. Like he’d been left with a void in his mind. A hole he’d never be able to fill up, because it was endless and empty. A space where things _should_ be, but they weren’t.

  
He didn’t know what happened to him. All he knew was that there had been a virus. That he was bed-bound, as his body attempted to repair the damage caused, irreparable damage that had taken away his mind palace. Taken away his ability to _analyse_. 

  
He knew he’d been comatose for two weeks, as they’d tried to remove the virus. Tried to prevent damage. Tried to keep him _alive_.

  
He could have died.

  
It could have killed him, and he wouldn’t even have fucking _known_ he was dying.

  
There was an RK900 optical unit in place of what used to be his own eye. Connor didn’t know what had damaged it. Didn’t know why they’d needed to remove it. He’d just been told that his old eye wasn’t functional, that the RK900 eye was simply there to provide him with sight until he got a replacement. _If_ he got a replacement.

  
His thirium pump regulator was the same. 

  
He didn’t know why they’d removed that, either. He’d just been told of internal damage.

  
Nothing more.

  
The looks they gave him, the technicians, _Hank_ , were all filled with sympathy. As if he’d gone through something horrific, unspeakable. As if they expected him to _break_ at any moment.

  
Connor didn’t understand it. He was _fine_. He was tired, and weak, and sore but he was _fine_.

  
He could adjust. He could function without his mind palace. 

  
He- He didn’t understand _why_. Why were they all looking at him like that? What had _happened_ to him?

  
Hank had been avoiding his questions all week. Refused to tell him anything. Refused to let him know _why_ he’d been damaged. Hank insisted he didn’t want to know. That it was for the _best_ that he didn’t know, didn’t remember. As if he needed fucking _protection_. 

  
He hated it.

  
He hated all of it.

  
He hated being unable to move, unable to get his body to respond. Because it was too weak, too damaged by the virus to function correctly. He hated the looks of sympathy, the way everyone was cautious around him, as if he were some kind of wounded animal. He hated not _knowing_.

  
...He wanted to cry.

  
Connor turned away from the world, buried his face in his pillow shut his eyes. 

* * *

  
_Cold._

  
_It was cold._

  
_He didn’t know what was cold._

  
_The surface?_

_He could feel cold against his face._

  
_Against his cheek._

  
_It was pressing into his cheek._

  
_It **hurt**._

  
_He- He couldn’t lift his head._

  
_Something was pressing him down._

  
_Holding him down._

  
_Keeping him in position._

  
_There were hands running over him._

  
_So many **hands**._

  
_He didn’t understand._

  
_There were people here? He hadn’t seen any people._

  
_Voices, too._

  
_Disembodied voices._

  
_Whispering all around him._

  
_He couldn’t make out the words._

  
_Only snippets._

  
_“...Things fuckin’ sedated... “_

  
_More cold._

  
_This time against his wrists._

  
_His wrists were cold._

  
_“...Why the fuck are we restraining it?...”_

  
_There was more noise._

  
_Whimpering?_

  
_Was there a dog around?_

  
_He liked dogs._

  
_...Dogs were good._

  
_“...It looks prettier this way…”_

  
_Pain._

  
_He didn’t know where._

  
_He didn’t know **why**._

  
_But it **hurt**. _

  
_He wanted it to stop._

  
_But he couldn’t move._

  
_“...Look at this fuckin’ thing, crying already…”_

  
_Who was crying?_

  
_Who were they talking about?_

  
_Wet._

  
_His face was wet._

  
_Was it him?_

  
_Why- Why was he crying?_

  
_He didn’t understand._

  
_“...Take it’s fuckin’ eyes out then…”_

  
_Fingers._

  
_They were prying at his eye._

  
_Pulling._

  
_Tugging._

  
_It **hurt**. _

  
_Red filled his vision._

  
_He didn’t like red._

  
_It was bad. Angry._

  
_He wanted it to go away._

  
_“...You reckon this’ll work? It won’t short circuit and electrocute me or some shit?...”_

  
_There was something **in** his eye._

  
_He didn’t know what._

  
_He wanted to get away._

_He was scared._

  
_He didn’t know what was going on._

  
_“...It’s pump worked. And that’s got more fucking wires than it’s fucking eye socket. It’ll be fine...”_

  
_He screamed._

  
_But no sound left his mouth._

  
_He couldn’t part his lips._

  
_He couldn’t do **anything**._

  
_The hands were moving._

  
_They were all over him._

  
_There was so many._

  
_He was **scared**._

  
_They were hurting him._

  
_They were hurting him and he didn’t know **how**._

* * *

  
The pillow beneath his head was damp. Connor didn’t know how long he’d been crying. He could feel Hank’s hand against his back, rubbing slow, calming circles. 

  
“You’re alright, Con. You’re alright.” 

  
He _wasn’t_ alright! He didn’t know what was happening, he didn’t know _why_ he was still here, he didn’t know why no-one would tell him _anything_!

  
“What happened to me?” Hank didn’t respond. He never did. He never told him.

  
Every single time Connor questioned, Hank would turn away. There would be a distant, almost haunted look in his eyes.

  
The same look Connor wore near perpetually.

  
Trauma.

  
But he didn’t understand.

  
_Nothing_ had happened to Hank. He was fine.

  
Why did he look so haunted? 

  
“You’re tired, Connor. Get some sleep.”

  
He didn’t _want_ to sleep. He wasn’t tired. He could feel his hands curling into fists, jaw clenching in frustration, unable to keep the sob contained as it left his mouth.

  
“Fuck, kid… You’re okay. You’re safe.”

  
Hank’s hand drifted to his shoulder, coming to settle upon it, squeezing him gently in an attempt to comfort.

  
“What _happened_ to me?” Connor repeated, speaking through his teeth, voice little more than a hoarse, breathy growl. 

  
“They infected you with a virus.”

  
“I know that!” Connor snapped, a fist slamming against the bed beneath him, he felt Hank’s hand retreat from his back, heard him step away. “Something _else_ happened. Something that you won’t _tell me_. What happened to me, Hank? What the _fuck_ did they do to me?”

  
Hank was silent after his outburst. For a moment, Connor didn’t believe he’d answer. Believed he’d just deflect it, like he always did. But after a moment, Hank spoke. Voice laced with the same pain that was present whenever he spoke of Cole. “They _hurt_ you, kid. Those sick fucks fuckin’ _hurt_ you.” Hank sounded disgusted. Spoke like whatever memory was haunting him revolted him, made him nauseous. Made him want to throw up.

  
Connor still didn’t understand. What could be _that_ bad? 

  
Aside from his eye, and pump regulator. His biocomponents weren’t damaged.

  
The virus had just destroyed his ability to use his mind palace.

  
Yes, he was _crippled_. 

  
He’d lost a core function. He lost something he’d been _reliant_ on, a feature _all_ androids had.

A feature that _made_ them androids.

  
But he could live without it.

  
It hadn’t broken him. 

  
The damage was irreparable, but he could live with it. 

  
“ _How?_ ” Connor’s voice was strained with frustration, throat closed up by tears. “I don’t understand. How is it that bad? How does it upset _you?_ ”

  
Hank didn’t respond. Not this time. 

  
Connor had been expecting it. He’d known there wouldn’t be an answer.

  
He just closed his eyes, curled in on himself. He’d _never_ know, would he? Hank would never tell him. The technicians wouldn’t tell him. 

  
They were trying to protect him. He didn’t know what from. 

  
He didn’t _want_ them to protect him.

  
He didn’t need protection.

  
He was fine. 

  
...He wasn’t fine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hurts Hank more than it hurts Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank's POV.

It started with a message. A text. A simple _“They hurt me. I’m scared.”_ Corrupted text.

  
He’d felt sick. _Guilty_. It was his fault Connor had left, his fault Connor had never returned.

  
His fault that people were _hurting_ Connor.

  
He hadn’t been able to track down the signal, couldn’t located Connor or whoever the fuck it was who was harming him. He’d been frantic, stormed the DPD, fuckin’ _begged_ Fowler to help him out, find the poor kid.

  
They couldn’t track him down.

  
The second text had appeared exactly 12 hours after the first. _“I don’t know what’s happening. I’m scared.”_

  
Hank didn’t know what the fuck to do. What _could_ he do? The precinct offered no help. He had no fuckin’ means of locating Connor in any way whatsofuckingever. He didn’t know what to do.

  
He couldn’t do anything.

  
He couldn’t help his son.

  
This was _his_ fault.

  
“ _They’re inside me. It hurts.”_

  
Hank had thrown up in the bathroom. Listening to his phone buzz over and over again with notifications, listening as more and more texts popped up.

  
_“It **hurts.** ”_

  
_“They’re hurting me.”_

  
_“I’m scared.”_

  
_“It’s cold.”_

  
_“I can’t move.”_

  
_“It hurts. They’re inside me.”_

  
_“ **IT HURTS.** ”_

  
_“Please, I’m scared.”_

  
The messages stopped abruptly. Almost as quickly as they came. Hank was left in silence, left wondering. His mind left spinning, interpreting everything that he’d just read. Leaning heavily over the toilet, feeling bile churning within his stomach.

  
This was _his_ fault.

  
They never should have argued.

  
He never should have snapped.

  
Connor should be _here_ , with him.

  
Not- Not getting fucking _tortured_ by god-knows-who!

  
He had to find him. Had to track him down.

  
...He didn’t know how.

  
It was 3AM. He received an audio clip. 

  
_Screaming._

  
A distorted, mechanical scream. 

  
Sobbing. Harsh. Violent. Scared.

  
More texts.

  
_“ **THEY’RE INSIDE MY EYE! IT HURTS!”**_

  
_“I’m scared.”_

  
_“They won't stop.”_

_“I’m scared.”_

  
_“I don’t know what’s happening.”_

  
_“They’re hurting me.”_

  
_“They’re inside my eye.”_

  
Hank _knew_. He knew what was happening.

  
He hadn’t even made it out the bedroom before he was vomiting again, the remains of his dinner splattering onto the ground. Sumo padded in, started licking it up. But Hank didn’t care. Didn’t even look.

_“Please. I’m scared”_

  
_“Please stop.”_

  
_“Why won’t they stop?”_

  
_“I’m **scared.** ”_

  
They were abusing him. Abusing his son. _Violating_ him. 

  
They made him _sick._

  
On the third day, Hank traced the signal. It was outside of Detroit. Would take at _least_ a day to get there.

  
But it was something.

  
He could get Connor out of there.

  
He was still alive, still messaging. 

  
_“They took my thirium pump again. It hurts. They’re inside it.”_

  
Hank forced himself to ignore the text, focus on the road. He didn’t have time for distractions. 

  
He needed to save his son.

* * *

They told him Connor had been infected with a virus. That it was destroying all his defences. That he couldn’t fight it off. 

  
It was why he’d been _screaming_. Why he hadn’t stopped screaming. Even as the technicians had him hooked up to countless fancy looking devices, were helping him to fight off the thing. 

  
It was destroying him.

  
Already _had_ destroyed parts of him.

  
Hank had been told Connor’s firewalls were gone. That his self-repair program was gone, which was why there were scratch marks and bruises on his skin, why there had been tears around his-

  
And they couldn’t replace them. Couldn’t fix them.

  
Those features had been _destroyed_ , forever. Connor wouldn’t get them back.

  
But Hank didn’t care about that. Didn’t care that Connor had been crippled as an android. 

  
They’d _hurt_ him. Had to take out his eye, his thirium pump regulator. Had to replace them because of internal damage. Because there had been… There had been…

  
He didn’t want to think about it. _Couldn’t._

  
It made Hank feel… He- He didn’t know what he felt.

  
He was sick, disgusted, _enraged._ But, at the same time, completely numb.

  
In shock, maybe. 

  
Like he had been when he’d first lost Cole.

  
They’d taken his son from him then… Would they take his son from him now?

  
Would Connor be able to survive this? Would he survive the _trauma?_

  
...Only time would tell. 

  
He’d wait. He wouldn’t leave Connor’s side. He’d stay with him, until he woke up.

  
Until he- 

  
Hank closed his eyes, cutting his tears in half, hand squeezing Connor’s gently. He was still writhing, still _screaming_.

  
But Hank could no longer hear the noise.

  
His free hand fumbled for his phone, looked down at the array of messages.

  
He typed one back.

  
_“Please don’t die. I can’t lose you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeet. i uh. decided to upload both chapters at once bc otherwise i prolly wouldn't have uploaded the second one for like a month hehe
> 
> anywho, i hope y'all enjoyed this! please leave kudos and/or a comment! it really helps keep me motivated to write more in the future!

**Author's Note:**

> yeet. i uh. decided to upload both chapters at once bc otherwise i prolly wouldn't have uploaded the second one for like a month hehe
> 
> anywho, i hope y'all enjoyed this! please leave kudos and/or a comment! it really helps keep me motivated to write more in the future!


End file.
